Dawn Waker
by Starchild524
Summary: A next-generation fic - introducing my OC, Shari. DN, though not directly.


My fic concerning Daine and Numair's daughter, as foretold in Candice's "Being Mary Sue." Hereby I embark on a new series, centered around my new OC - a Gifted Wildmage who will NOT be a MS if I have anything to say about it. Enjoy (hopefully) and tell me what you think - that is vital if I want to make my Shari universe work. And heads up for the next Shari fic, Predestined, coming soon. :)  
  
Many thanks to Candice, an excellent beta if I ever saw one, who worked my rough draft thoroughly while still being encouraging. I was flattered, in fact, much of your feedback. I must also acknowledge that it was your "Funny Thing, This" that inspired me to write a Tortall school story of my own. Many thanks also for an ardent plug before the fic was even posted - before I'd even finished the rough draft! Can't ask much more than that. :D *hugs*  
  
Dawn Waker  
  
In room 24 of the Royal University of Tortall, behind the time-worn desk in the second row, third from the left, sat a thirteen-year-old girl whose name was known to virtually all in the Tortallan field of magecraft. Her pale blue linen robe marked her as a student mage in her third year. Around her neck, on silver chains meticulously spelled never to break or to be removed without her consent, hung two magical tokens. One was a cloudy blue stone with many-colored fires playing in its depths - an opal, a power stone that aided its bearer in holding magic or supporting a working. The other was a blue-gold dragon scale set into a silver base, a token from her mother's friend of the Firefolk; it granted its current owner the magical vision of dragons, and marked her as a friend among them.  
  
Ellesharia Salmalín, known as Shari to those close to her and "the Magechild" to the public, reflected her heritage in more ways than one. Her parentage could be inferred at first sight. She had her father's dark eyes; her hair - when loosed from its typical braid - rippled down to her hip, panther-black and almost as tightly curled as her mother's. Shari's creamy complexion and delicate features were also the Wildmage's, as was her stubbornness; the intellect, her father's. What she had inherited from both parents -- and what made her so well-known, though she would not be a licensed mage for quite some time yet -- was an abundance of two magical powers. Her Gift was so strong as to have been evident in her mother's first month of pregnancy, a rare property indeed. Wild magic bound her to all vertebrates, as it did her mother. This, in fact, connected the two of them as well: when in range, they could communicate magically as they did with the People. Shari had never proven quite *as* strong in either power as her parents were -- but, as they told her, she was in their class, which alone was enough for Shari.  
  
A trait that, it seemed, she could blame on neither parent was the cause of her current predicament. At this moment, the famous Magechild had no thoughts for glory or power as a sorceress. Her delicate features were pinched in a glaze-eyed grimace, shoulders in the proximity of her ears, as she examined the paper that her Combat Magic master had just passed back. For this particular assignment had earned her a "Poor" score, and now her academic status was in dire peril. Or at least, her Combat Magic mark was, given the imminent end of the spring term.  
  
Shari released a discreet but heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair with the cause of her downfall dangling from one hand. She couldn't blame anyone but herself, really. What had she *expected*, after all, on this one? She'd known it would be a weighty assignment, one that called for both ample time and effort, and she'd put in. what, an hour? Late at night, at that. It was just -- she and her friends had finally managed a three-way speech spell that allowed them to socialize from home, and they'd lost track of time that night. Shari, however, was the only one who had neglected to complete the essay *before* they opened the spell, and thus she, among the three of them, was likely the only one who had consequently added a "Poor" mark to her record.  
  
Now, her friend Meryl was signaling eagerly from across the classroom, inquiring -- in their group's esoteric sign language -- what she had received. With a groan, Shari signed the painful truth back to her, and scowled as Meryl's eyebrows rose. /Thanks ever so for rubbing my nose in it./  
  
It wasn't that Shari was a *bad* student, really, and none doubted her skill. She had, after all, aided her parents on several noted occasions, despite their wishes to keep her safe and out of their work. "Until you're older, Shari," they'd told her for six years - they just wanted her to stay out of danger while she earned a professional title at the university. Protective sentiments aside, certain dire situations had left Shari the only solution (not that she minded at all). Just last summer she had helped them repel a Copper Isles attack on Port Sarden, on the western coast, making the most noted achievement in her young career. Why, she'd been no more than eight at the siege of Kithermont, when her mother had taken ill and Shari, on her instructions, had instead directed the People in sabotaging the enemy.  
  
Such exploits had earned Shari her title. In organized academic institutions, however, she was less exemplary. Typically her marks comprised largely a combination of "Excellents" and "Goods," but her status quo threatened a "Fair" in Combat Magic. Combat magic, indeed -- she was hardly *more* proven, outside the University, at another branch of magecraft! It was ridiculous. But, really, she had no excuse. Many of her friends consistently earned arrays of "Excellents" on their records.  
  
Mistress Windspinner, a commanding woman with sharp gray eyes and pinned-back brown hair streaked with silver, had reclaimed the floor after distributing her class's papers. "Most of you have a fairly good grasp of fire-workings," she told them briskly. "I was satisfied with the majority of what you wrote, though a few of you -- surprisingly -- showed significant room for improvement." Her gaze seemed to settle ever so briefly on Shari, whose gloom deepened crushingly. "For the next week or two you will work on improving your control of the spells as well as their magnitude and duration, and you will eventually be asked to demonstrate for the class, evaluated by me. For now, turn to Chapter Five in the text and read Karryan Uilith's Treatise number one on the subject. Take organized and thorough notes. If you have questions, feel free to ask. Expect to be tested on this material within the week." The Combat Magic instructor sat behind her desk and took up a stack of papers as the assemblage of thirteen- year-olds in the classroom flipped through their book and pulled out paper and quills.  
  
Shari glared sourly at the Uilith tract. Great war-mage of the 3rd century H.E. or no, that man had to be the driest read she was subjected to in school. She made herself ink her quill and focus on the Treatise's opening lines, willing herself to ignore the gleeful antics of a pair of swallows outside. She would have given anything to be with them instead of in this class. Grimly she plodded through Uilith's dense edificatory coils, filling her paper with her trademark whippy, impatient writing. Many found it illegible, but in taking notes - for her own use - she was going to make no special effort in her penmanship.  
  
Ma didn't have to do any of this scholarly rubbish, she thought glumly. Maybe I should just drop standard magecraft and study with her to become a wildmage. She had often thought this when her university studies were not the most pleasant experience. As a mage in training, she was kept busy enough, learning the use of her wild magic with her parents as well as training in her Gift at the university.  
  
You're not going to do that, Shari. Her mother's voice sounded in her head and Shari roused herself to attention, frowning; she hadn't felt her mother, but then, the Wildmage's magical senses were sharper than her own. You can't let yourself slacken in Gifted magecraft just because you've wild magic to use as well. You *can* become a great mage as well as a wildmage, and as long as your father and I are about we'll see that you reach as high as you can.  
  
I know, Ma. Shari sighed mentally. I didn't exactly think I was talking for all to hear when I thought that, anyway.  
  
Her mother's laugh sounded in Shari's head. It's like I've been telling you, remember? Your magic connects you to a good deal of others. If you don't keep a hold on your thoughts, they're laid out plain for the rest of us to see.  
  
Oh. Right. I'll try. Shari would certainly not want her *personal* thoughts to be unconsciously publicized.  
  
Good girl. Listen, I'm a bit busy right now, and you should be concentrating on your studies. I'll see you after classes, all right?  
  
Right. See you then. She felt her mother's presence retreat.  
  
Twenty minutes later, she was sure her head was on the brink of implosion from exposure to unnecessarily dull material. Looking furtively around the classroom - always under Mistress Windspinner's watchful eye - she glanced around at her friends. Their heads were bent over the text, quills scratching busily, like good little mage students. Alcynthe glanced up, catching Shari's eye, and made a face that expressed a similar exasperation with the assignment. Shari grinned lopsidedly, wishing she could open a speech spell as she and her friends often did in class. Unfortunately, *some* teachers were more tolerant than others, and in *some* classes a small, discretely cast communication spell would go unnoticed - but not here. Even if Windspinner didn't notice the magic, whispers would be overheard in the hush that accompanied a reading assignment.  
  
Thankfully, the bell rang just then, signaling the end of the sixth hour. With a sigh of relief, she stuffed her materials into her bag and stood, winding through the mass of eagerly departing classmates to join her friends. Out in the hallway, the crowd dispersed into the mass flow of students and she caught her friends Meryl, Alcynthe, Aeden and Kerilene.  
  
"What did you get?" Alcynthe demanded. A short, stocky girl, she made up for any visual shortcomings in attitude. Bright brown eyes and a pert, freckled nose bespoke her characteristic spunk. She was holding her own fire-spells paper in hand, and plying her friends for their scores. "I got 'Fair'; it says I got all the Ekallatum firemages mixed up.."  
  
"Gods -- above," Shari groaned, grateful to release her burden. "Look." She pulled out her paper and thrust it at them.  
  
"*Poor*?" Kerry asked incredulously. Inquisitive and caring amongst her friends, she was a shy girl in formal situations, one who preferred to let a curtain of straight light-brown hair veil her from external scrutiny. "On fire-spells? But - you're the fire-magic *queen*. You've flamed enemy *fleets* before, like at Port Sarden."  
  
"Let me see that," Aeden said peremptorily, seizing the paper. None argued; she was the best student of their group, and the unofficial academic authority among them. Now she studied the paper through silver- rimmed oval spectacles, brushing back her short-cropped blonde hair. As she scanned what Shari had written, her eyebrows rose. Shari's spirits sank reciprocally.  
  
Alcynthe, peering over Aeden's shoulder, whooped. "Zaria Flamestress at the Battle of *Mount Karlem*? The woman was twenty years *dead* by then!"  
  
"Shut up, Cynthe." Shari glared daggers at her friend. "I don't think knowing some obscure bit of trivia will actually help us in battle someday."  
  
"I can tell," Aeden said mildly, solemn grey eyes flicking from the paper to its writer. "Actually, the Mithran Priests of Carthak developed the Basic Techniques of Pyrodeviation; Vardian of Sallsprin composed the four Songs of Summoning - for *all* the elements, not just fire; and Yana the Wise defeated Orlius in 178, not -" she glanced back at Shari's report - "323 H.E." She finished with a pitying tone.  
  
Shari's face grew hot; she snatched back the paper with no expression of graditude. "I know the *magic*," she protested, which was certainly true. "I just don't memorize all the dates and names."  
  
"Of course," Meryl put in sweetly, coppery lashes veiling her grey- green eyes, "it just might make a difference how much *time* you put in on the paper. Or studying the history, surely?" Her Gallan accent laid a delicate lilt on her vowels.  
  
"Don't you flutter your eyelashes at me, Mistress Ethensri. Or I'll set something of *yours* on fire." Shari raised a threatening hand, flames of a deepest wine-red - burgundy laced with darker shadows, like silken fabric with a sheen to it - playing around her fingers.  
  
Meryl raised her own hands in laughing protest, magic of a delicate silver-green forming a shimmering barrier before her. "I daren't anger the great Magechild -"  
  
"Ladies," said a light voice behind them. "Do we have a problem?"  
  
Both magics flickered out as the girls turned to face the speaker. Master Lindhall Reed - Head of the University School of Magecraft, as well as long-time teacher and friend to Shari's father - stood with arms crossed and eyebrows raised inquisitively.  
  
"No, sir," Meryl said quickly.  
  
"No, sir," Shari agreed. "We were only jesting, you see.."  
  
"Indeed." A smile quirked the corner of Master Reed's mouth. "Nevertheless, bear in mind that magic has the tendency to diverge from the original intent of its bearer. Ellesharia, I'm afraid that this is not the place for the *application* of your combat magic skills." Her friends giggled quietly as Shari flushed. "Meanwhile, I suggest you young ladies head outdoors; it will do a restless spirit good." He nodded to them, turned, and strode down the hall, boot heels tapping on the polished marble floor.  
  
Shari rolled her eyes as the group headed for the tall wooden doors in the opposite direction. "We didn't even do anything."  
  
"Mayhap he was. remembering -" Meryl was back to her jokester self, eyes dancing - "that time you set Lord Harailt's robe on fire."  
  
Shari grimaced at the memory; their friends laughed again. "You should have *seen* your face," Alcynthe said with relish. She adopted a squeaky falsetto. "I'm - so sorry, my lord - I'm afraid the spell escaped me -"  
  
"He wasn't *mad*, really," Aeden added as they stepped out onto the flagstones outside the doors. Broad flights of steps led down to ground level, where paved pathways led away from the building in four different directions, cutting through the grass. "He likes you. He thought the spell was great, even if it didn't work out all the way."  
  
"All the great mages want to see the famous Magechild at work," said Alcynthe. "You've got to be the only Gifted wildmage in *history* - with a lot of power in both, I mean."  
  
Shari's face tightened. The gloom of her academic predicament, lifted by talking with her friends, returned in full force. "Famous, am I?" she said bitterly. "Well, you'd think everyone would expect me to get good *marks* to go with my glamorous career."  
  
"Well, you *do* get good marks," Kerry asserted.  
  
"I'm no Aeden." The girl alluded to blushed at the mention of her reputation.  
  
"None of us are." Kerry glanced sidelong at their friend with typical envy.  
  
"Yes, well, I *usually* get good enough marks, but now -" Shari flicked the condemning paper that still dangled from her hand. "I don't know. In Combat Magic - I just have trouble with the history parts. Can't stand all the piles of names, dates, places.." And it was strange, because Shari did fine in her *general* History class - at least, with the help of her study group, particularly Aeden. In Combat, it drove her half mad that that had to study the history as much as they did; she wanted to learn and practice the magic itself! That was Shari - stubborn, impatient, a tad rebellious - not exactly one to conform to the starched propriety of the academic world. She was a better mage than she was a student.  
  
"Couldn't you ask your Da for help with that?" Meryl suggested. "He'd be just the one to talk to about mage history, I'd think."  
  
Alcynthe nodded assent. "He's always going on about this mage and that scroll and the other spell - and he seems like a really good teacher, too."  
  
"He is," Shari told them. "And he does teach me, all the time. That's how I - you know - sometimes know spells before we learn them in class.."  
  
"In short, you know essentially the whole curriculum before we learn it," Aeden remarked. "Like -" she waved one hand idly, casting around for an example - "fire spells!"  
  
Shari shrugged modestly. It was true, particularly the example cited. "Anyway, it's just that he and Ma are away so much, in their work," she continued. "And yes, we can always stay in touch, magically, but when they're at home we just want to - well - be together."  
  
Kerry sighed heavily. "Yes, I would imagine." Her bright brown eyes were full of sympathy. "It must be hard, sometimes."  
  
Shari nodded. "So he does teach me workings outside of school, but that's more for fun - I mean, fun in a useful way. A jump-start on the career. But he and Ma expect me to keep up in school on my own."  
  
"Well," Aeden said briskly, "I say we study together for Combat Magic too, if there's going to be a good deal of history in it. We'll split up material for taking notes, and share them, like for History. What do you think?"  
  
"Lovely." Shari smiled gratefully at her friend as Kerry, Alcynthe and Meryl voiced similar approval. Aeden was always the practical one, coming up with working plans to remedy the obstacles they faced.  
  
"Let's split up the Uilith Treatise, then," Aeden continued; no one objected. "I'll take the first Article. Shari, you take the second; Meryl, the third; Kerry, the fourth; Cynthe, you do the fifth. We can get together this evening to share notes and talk about it. All right?" They chorused consent.  
  
Here the walk split into two paths. One led towards the University girls' dormitories, the other to the palace. Aeden, Meryl, and Alcynthe took the former path; Shari and Kerry (*Lady* Kerilene of Hintervale), who lived with their families in the palace, took the latter. The girls made farewells and parted, with the prospect of seeing one another again that evening. They could keep in touch via speech spells.  
  
They left the University campus and headed for the palace, a majestic edifice with lofty turrets and towers, proud flags weaving in the wind above its countless stories of halls, studies, storage of records and goods, training yards, facilities of production that supported the palace, rooms for nobles, servants, and everyone in between. This was the center of Tortall, hosting its rulers and their close advisors as well as a great population of nobles, mages and military commanders. Here, too, was Shari's home, in the suite she shared with her parents. Unfortunately, their work frequently called them away; on such occasions, Shari joined her friends in the University dorms.  
  
She and Kerry were discussing the procedures they learned in Aural and Kinetic Magecraft - and the virtues and vices of improvisation in performance - when a familiar presence grew to prominence in Shari's magical senses. Looking up, she reshaped her eyes to an eagle's (she could manage partial shapeshifts, but full changes yet eluded her skill) and saw two raptors wheeling overhead. One was the shape of a hawk, but larger and solid black; the other was a golden eagle: her parents, in bird shape.  
  
"What is it?" Kerry was craning her neck, peering up at the clouds.  
  
"It's a bit hard to see them." Shari moved to stand at her friend's shoulder, and pointed. "Da's the black one; Ma's the golden eagle. See?"  
  
"Oh - right." Kerry shook her head, smiling ruefully. "It's just not everyone who sees their parents in more than one shape."  
  
Shari grinned back, belying a sudden gloom that touched her mood. Her parents were great and famous mages, all but revered in their field, and Shari herself was trying to maintain decent marks in school. The *Magechild*, indeed - wasn't she resting on her laurels? Port Sarden had been eight months ago - and all she'd done, really, was throw fire at the enemy. She remembered the glee of it - she'd thought it *fun*. How could her brief experience compare to all her parents had seen? Even now - didn't they expect more of her? Didn't everyone? Every mage in the realm seemed to know of her; even the name she'd borne since her birth heralded a great mage - "ellesharia", Old Thak for "Dawn-Waker." Often the name, however appealing, felt more a burden than a gift.  
  
Wouldn't one think she'd be at the top of her classes? No, she whiled away half the time she *could* be studying, instead playing with her magic or chatting with her friends, both People and human. It just. seemed such a burden, each night, to take out her books and notes and begin studying, plowing through piles of such dense and *dull* material! Most of her mage studies were fine - Healing, Aural and Kinetic Magecraft, Weather Magic, and Combat Magic (or at least, it *usually* was) - these were what opened the fascinating and beautiful world of magic to her, at once her home and a vast expanse of unexplored terrain. Unfortunately, the university also required that she to take History, Mathematics and World Languages, and these were the ones she tried each day just to sit through, studied for as little as she could to get by. As for magic, well, she did well enough when in actually came to presenting the techniques they learned, but disciplined study did not sit well with her.  
  
That was Shari - capable, but impatient. She had to admit it: she wanted to be a mage without first undergoing the work required. She wanted to be where her parents were - the finest in their class, answering to no one else in the field. It would be wonderful to use her magic freely, not as the authorities - academic or professional - dictated. But that simply wasn't how it worked, she told herself heavily.  
  
Her mother's presence grew stronger; Shari looked up again to see the two raptors spiraling down towards her and Kerry. She frowned; now was not the best time to talk to them. She would have preferred having some time to herself at the moment. Today was simply not her day.  
  
The eagle's wings flared out as she swooped along the ground to land near Shari; the black hawk's landing was more ungainly.  
  
"Hello, Ma, Da," she said, making an effort to smile, as their shapes began to change. The hawk grew into a tall, dark man with strong but finely carved features, simply dressed but of a stately bearing. The Wildmage reclaimed only her true head; unlike her husband, she could take any animal's shape, but could not incorporate clothing into the shapeshift. Younger than Shari's father - just past thirty - she now tossed earth-brown curls over her feathered shoulder, blue-grey eyes lit in a smile. "Hello, sweet." She nodded to Kerry. "Afternoon, Kerilene."  
  
"Afternoon," Kerry replied as Shari hugged her father. "Lovely day -" there was a giggle under her words - "for, ah, flying."  
  
"Apparently Daine thought so," Numair remarked, looking down at his wife. "But with her experience, she can more easily negotiate the challenges of wind currents." He grimaced. "My own difficulty - being the elementary flier that I am - seemed *most* amusing to her."  
  
The Wildmage scoffed at this. "How's your day, girls?"  
  
"Fine," Kerry said pleasantly.  
  
"If you want the truth," Shari said muddily, "bad. For me, anyway."  
  
Her father's brow creased in concern. "How so, Shari?"  
  
She sighed and handed over the adverse paper. As he looked it over, she tried to explain her difficulties. "I just want to do the magic itself," she explained heavily. "I don't *need* all the history rubbish - it doesn't help with the workings. And I *know* the magecraft well enough as it is."  
  
"Shari's the best in all the magecraft classes," Kerry put in supportively. "Especially combat magic."  
  
Numair smiled. "I assure you, it's been demonstrated." Daine nodded assent.  
  
"Shari," she said gently, "you have to study hard in what the University has you learn - to be successful. If you want to earn a title by them, you have to go by what they want."  
  
"I *know*." Shari was nettled. "But what they want isn't always the best way to go about learning. Not for me." She lifted her chin assertively.  
  
Her parents exchanged glances. Shari felt an itch of annoyance at their private communion; she often felt, at such times, that they were excluding her - and now, in a matter much to her interest.  
  
"We should talk about it," her mother said after a moment. She resettled her wings briefly, indicating - to those who knew her well enough, such as Shari - a vague discomfort. "We'll talk about it today, all right?"  
  
"We should be home within the hour," Numair told his daughter. He put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "Shari, I know that University academics don't always seem the most enjoyable road to a professional title - or even the most sensible and efficient. We can't change that. What we *do* have sway over is what we make of it."  
  
Shari's stomach had sunk to her toes. Her parents' involvement served only to double the burden of her struggles in school. They seemed so gods- curst *sensitive* to the matter, making it much more of an issue that Shari would ever have considered it. Why had all this happened to her? Now she had a "talk" with her parents to look forward to - she'd be treated to a delightful examination of her shortcomings.  
  
She tried to smile, and nodded briskly. "Right. Well, see you then." She took a step back, towards the palace, intimating a withdrawal from the conversation.  
  
"Good day, girls." Her mother smiled quickly, and reclaimed her eagle head. Shari's father, too, reshaped himself, and they took to the air once more.  
  
The two mage students recommenced their walk towards the palace. Shari kept her eyes on a ground level, but the image of her parents circling among the clouds reigned over her mind. That's where she wished *she* was - if she could just slough her cares and take wing, all the vast blue sky open to her..  
  
After bidding Kerry a farewell, she made her way up to her family's suite and let herself in with a word to the key spell, which was activated on hearing her voice. Inside, the rooms were quiet, empty; apparently Kitten was out as well, probably with Tkaa. It felt decidedly odd; Shari couldn't say whether she would have preferred company or solitude at the time. She sighed heavily. Today was *definitely* not her day. More, even - the matter opened today would stay with her for a while yet.  
  
Once in her room, she dropped her bag on the floor and opened the window, welcoming the pleasant breezes of spring. She smiled at the warbly chirping of the sparrow family that inhabited her window-sill, and greeted them in return, her mood brightening momentarily. The sparrow parents now boasted a brood of three beady-eyed and shrill-voiced young, and enjoyed tidbits from Shari as well as long, sable curls woven into their nest.  
  
Shari now turned grimly to confront her schoolwork. Ordinarily she would have, upon getting home, opened a speech-spell with her friends, dropped her book bag and rushed out to the field to greet the People, or toyed around with various workings she heard or read about. Her desk was almost always occupied with texts, materials and instruments pertaining to her current project. (She couldn't help but feel accomplishment at having set several melodies into a self-playing lute - by herself, no less.) Today, however, such indulgences repulsed her - nor were any of her usual diversions particularly appealing. Grimly resigned, she pulled out her Combat Magic text and opened up to the Uilith tract. What Article was she supposed to look at again? .Oh yes, the second one.  
  
Gathering her resolve to immerse herself once more in the fire-magic tract, she felt a sudden surge of rebellion. /I wish I didn't have to do any of this.. I wish I didn't have to answer to anyone. I wish I could just be *free*../  
  
An image flashed across her mind: two raptors, one black, one pine- bark brown, wheeling against the open blue sky.  
  
/. Like them./ 


End file.
